THE  GARDEN  OF  DESIRE 


THE 

GARDEN  OF  DESIRE 

LOVE  SONNETS 
TO  A  SPANISH  MONK 

BY 
EDNA  WORTHLEY  UNDERWOOD 


NEW  YORK  &»  LONDON 
MITCHELL  KENNERLEY 

1913 


Copyright,  IQIJ,  by 
Mitchell  Kenner/ey 


Printed  in  America 


I 

THE  GARDEN  OF  DESIRE 


"O,  holy  God  of  Love,  thou  guidest  there  the 
heart  where  hindrances  are." 

Kalidasa.     (Malawika  and  Agnimitra) 


I  HASTENED,  homeward  through  the  twilight 
lone 

While  on  my  lips  your  kisses  stung  like  flame, 
Burning  to  purest  white  the  rose  of  shame 

That    leaped    between   us,    scarlet   lipped,    full 

blown ; 
Within  my  ears  your  Spanish  speech  made  moan; 

I  saw  nor  mud,  mist,  gray,  wet  streets ;  there  came 
As  in  a  vision,  Spain  of  splendid  name. 
Your  castle  in  Love's  Land — there,  we,  alone! 

Gone  I     Gone  I     Here  by  the  window  now  I  wait 

For  him  to  whom  I  owe  yet  give  not  love ; 
Watching  the  bird-winged  night  drop  from  above, 
Grouped  church  spires,  like  frail  hands  up-flung 

to  Fate, 
On  windows  through  which  answering  night  lights 

chime, 
I  hear  the  passionless,  cold  rain  of  Winter  time! 

[9] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

II 

How  well,  how  well  you  woo  me  with  soft  speech, 

Fire  swift  my  blood  with  wreathed  word  divine  1 
"If  power  to  choose  Love's  own  pure  tongue  were 
mine," 

You  said,  "I'd  choose  Italians  to  teach 
You  how  I  love;  but  if  I  must  beseech 

As  penitent,  mercy,  pardon  divine — 
(As  now  in  love's  proud  passion  I  seek  thine)  — 

OI  let  us,  Sweet,  speak  Spanish,  each  to  each!" 

"But  if  in  haughtiness  I  would  command, 

See  armies,  nations,  bow  beneath  my  word, 
Then  let  the  bitter  English  tongue  be  heard  I" 
"Love!     Love!"    I    cried,    "stretch    out    your 

sceptred  hand, 

Put  from  you  the  soft  vowels  that  sing  of  Spain — 
Look!     Look!     I    kneel    before   you   in   love's 
pain!" 


[10] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

III 

No!     No!     I   told  you   once,   twice,  thrice, — this 
wise, 

And  firmly  I  said  it  despite  the  hand 
That  clung  about  my  breasts,  the  vice-like  band 

That  passion  set  on  me;  despite  your  eyes 
That  eagerly  sought  mine,  their  wild  surprise 

That  trembling  with  desire  I  could  withstand 
The  majesty  of  Love's  greatest  command 

Laid  on  us  with  the  weight  of  destinies, 

I  left,  aye!- — left  you  there  and  went  my  way. 

Outside  I  met  a  woman  bent  and  old, 
A  toothless,  wrinkled  hag,  shrunk  with  Life's  cold. 
That  sight  makes  good  all  sin,  I  cried,  Bright 

Day! 
If    age    were    not    and    death — O!    then — Here! 

Here! 
Outside  your  door  keep  me  not  waiting,  Dear! 


THE    GARDEN    OE    VES1RE 

IV, 

Upon  our  first  great  love-night,  Heart  of  Mine, 

You  whispered  in  that  golden  speech  of  Spain, 
"My  home  was  Malaga  beside  the  Main." 

'Twas  there,  I  asked,  where  black  the  bunched 

grapes  shine? 
O  sweet,  sweet  South,  I  cried,  sweet  South  of  thine ! 

A  silence  fell.     We  spoke  no  more  again. 
Within  your  eyes  I  saw  an  olden  pain; 

O  sad,  sad  South,  I  thought,  sad  South  of  thine  I 

Upon  my  breast  bunched  black  your  bright  curls 

lay — 

Bacchante  then  and  Pan  were  we  that  night; 
Grape-God,  I  call  you  witness  to  the  sight; 

That    night,    Grape-God,    beneath    your   mighty 

sway 

Lay  not  upon  my  breast  in  love's  sweet  pain 
Black  grapes  from  Malaga  beside  the  Main? 


[12] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

V 

You  said:     "To  make  more  sweet  that  which  will 
be, 

Let's  play  a  part  together,  you  and  I. 
See ! — I'm  a  monk,  who,  in  his  garden  high, 

Doth  fast  and  pray  to  banish  things  worldly. 
Down  there  you  come,  sad  faced,  dreaming  of  me. 

I  feel  that  you  'twixt  flowering  trees  draw  nigh; 
I  look  not  lest  your  lips  let  love  flame  high, 

But,  rising, — thus — I  bless  you  prayerfully." 

Senor! — that    tone! — Those    gestures    strange    yet 

stern ! 
Tell  me,  where  did  you  learn  them?     Tell  me 

true! 
Great  God,  Senor,  an  unfrocked  priest  are  you! 

No,  no !     No,  no ! — Enough,  your  kisses  burn — 
To-night — I  swear  it! — you  shall  be  denied, 
Grief-stricken  glooms  o'er  us — The  Crucified. 


THE     GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

VI 

Upon  my  eyes  like  rain  your  kisses  fall, 

Soft  rain  that  maketh  to  be  sweet  the  Spring, 
The  time  of  fairest  love's  first  flowering, 

When  mating  birds  so  softly  call  and  call. 
Like  rain  upon  my  eyes  your  kisses  fall, 

Bright  rain  the  royal  Summer's  crown  to  bring, 
Soft  rain  upon  shy  trees  that  croon  and  swing, 

Sweet  bridal  veil  of  mist  that  hldeth  all. 

Kiss  me  not  thus !     No,  no,  not  thus  kiss  me. 
The  storm's  kiss  first! — when  black  the  day  suns 

grow 

And  winds  nor  height,  depth,  hell  nor  heaven  know — 
Yes,   yes,   the   storm's  kiss  first!     Thus — thus — 

kiss  me ! 
Unchain  the  whirlwinds  of  your  wild  desire 

And  blind  me,  blind  me,  with  the  lightning's  fire ! 


[14] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

VII 

But  when  I'm  worn  and  weary  and  would  rest, 

And  in  my  ears  the  storm  sounds  vaguely  far, 
The  lightnings  fireless  as  that  far  night  star, 

Then  fold  me  in  your  arms,  upon  your  breast. 
O !  fold  me  in  your  arms !     There  let  me  rest, 

To  watch,  idly,  the  fleeing  Storm-God's  car, 
Rain-mist  so  soft  it  may  not  mark  nor  mar 

The  lily's  leaf — when  sleep  and  dreams  are  best. 

Then  on  my  eyes  like  rain  let  kisses  fall, 

Soft  rain  that  maketh  to  be  sweet  the  Spring, 

And  Winter  fields  like  pink  pearls  shimmering. 
The  bridal  veil  of  mist  fall  over  all! 

From  under,  as  shy  crocuses  do  peep, 

New  love  shall  bud  and  blossom  while  I  sleep. 


[•si 


THE    GARDEN    O.R    DESJRE 

VIII 

Within  a  gloomy  land  our  love  did  grow, 

Within  a  city  gray  with  mist  and  smoke 
Whose  roofs  lone  prairie  levels  roughly  choke, 

Where  no  bright,  seaward  slipping  rivers  flow, 
Around  us  rose  the  din  of  toil  and  woe — 

Straight  church  towers  whence  stern  warring  bell 

tones  broke 

With   words  of  warning  when  their   iron   tongues 
spoke, — 

Such  was  the  city  that  our  love  'did  know! 

Think  you  we  saw  it  ?     No,  no  1     This  saw  we — 
A  waving  field  where  flame-like  flowers  bloom, 

[(That  fateful  flower  of  old  Sicilian  doom — 
Great  Demeter,  we  thought  not  then  of  thee!) 

We  plucked.     We  ate.     The   fruit  was  strangely 

sweet, 
And  hell  and  heaven  opened  at  our  feet. 


[16] 


IX 

"Be  at  the  opera" — you  write — to-night — 

The  crimson  rose  I  send  on  your  breast  wear, 
My  lips  had  blessed  it  ere  I  sent  it  where 

They,  too,  have  lain  and  learned  love's  speech 

aright. 
"I  cannot  wait" — you  say — "till  comes  our  night; 

Tu  esposo — I  know,  yes,  he'll  be  there, 
But  that  I'll  suffer  if  you'll  grant  me,  Fair, 

One  glimpse  of  you.     O !  let  me  know.     Write  I 
Write!" 

Yes,  Sweet !  and  when  the  trumpets  leap  and  sing, 
And  fiddle-bows  rise,  fall,  like  trees  swaying 

Beneath  an  angry  storm  when  winds  are  strong, 
Ear-dulled,  the  present  blotted  with  the  past, 

My  love  shall  rise  and  reach  you,  hold  you  fast, 
And  vanish  with  you  on  the  wings  of  song! 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 


What  pictures  do  we  see  when  memories  frown 

Alone  and  here  together,  Dearest  One! 
I  first  saw  light  beneath  a  pallid  sun, 

The  northern  stars  upon  my  youth  looked  down. 
You,  where  the  earth  wears  best  its  flowery  crown, 

Where  fiercest,  mightiest,  doth  blaze  the  sun, 
Not  star-like  to  it  was  my  pallid  one, 

The    Southern    Cross   upon   your   youth    looked 
down. 

O!  shed  upon  me  all  your  blaze  of  lights, 
Fill  well  my  soul  for  what  it  missed  of  yore, 

Enrich  me  ever  with  your  flowery  lore! 
I  can  recall  no  more  the  northern  nights ! 

I  know  when  on  my  mouth  is  set  your  mouth 
The  sensuous,  sweet  savors  of  the  South. 


[18] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESJRE 

XI 

There  was  a  little  garden  that  I  knew 

Far,    far    to    north — where    still    my    childhood 

stays — 
The  garden  of  my  girlhood,  of  its  Mays, 

Where  frail  and  strange,  unreal,  dream-flowers 

grew. 
Within  that  little  garden  that  I  knew, 

O !  prim  the  beds  were,  straight  and  white  the 

ways, 

All  simply  made  and  plain  for  childhood  days, 
There  little  Love,  white-winged,  unspotted,  flew. 

Think  you  aught  great  there  is  for  you  I've  done? 

My  Dream-Tree  I  have  plundered  of  its  toys 
That  grew  within  the  garden  of  my  joys  I 

In  little  paths  where  once  sweet  Love  did  run, 
Roam  wildly  now  the  gaunt  Wolves  of  Desire — 

And  blurred  the  ways,  with  dead  flowers  flecked — 
and  mire. 


[19] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XII 

Unto  that  little  garden  sometimes,  Love, 

I  hasten  yet  to — to — yes,  to  forget — 
Tell  all  its  quaintnesses  again  and  let 

Myself  learn  peace  of  her  who  knew  not  love. 
Yes,  yes,  unto  that  garden  sometimes,  Love, 

I  hasten  yet  to — to — yes,  to  forget — 
To  feel  its  dear,  deep  calm  again  and  let 

Hover  above  my  heart  Youth's  white,  white  dove. 

No,  no! — you  need  not  worry  lest  I  stay, 
Forget  the  lore  that  I  of  grief  have  learned, 

The  lore  sin  red  upon  my  soul  has  burned — 
Tell  me  why  should  you  worry  lest  I  stay? 

Surely  you've  heard  when  of  blood  tigers  taste, 
Not   seas   can   keep   them  from   it — mountain — 
waste  I 


[20] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XIII 

They  say  that  they  who've  sinned  this  sin  of  ours 
May  never  after  death  know  aught  of  light; 
Naught  can  once  cleanse  their  souls,  nor  make  them 

white, 
Nor   Lydian   scents  make  sweet  the   sin-stained 

hours. 
A    gate    whose    whirling   swords   have    lightning's 

powers 

To  blast  and  burn  flash  outward  with  such  might 
The  black  and  barren  road  is  bleached  to  bright 
That  leads  down,  downward,  where  the  darkness 
cowers. 

Come,  Sweet,  lift  up  your  eyes!     Be  not  afraid. 

Behold! — within  that  pit  a  giant  rose, 
Its  million,  million  petals,  hearts  of  those 

Who  sinned  this  sin  of  ours  all  undismayed, 
So  rich,  colossal,  glorious  and  fair 

It  dims  the  white  sword-whirl  of  judgment  there  I 


[21] 


XIV 

"Quare,   dum    licet,    internos   laetemur  amantes; 
Non  satis  est  ullo  tempore  longus  amor." 

PROPERTIUS 

Your  love  has  clothed  me  with  a  garment  fair 

That  covers  up  all  soil  and  smirch  and  sin, 

From  folded  feet  folds  whitely  to  the  chin 

And  hallows  me  as  those  the  saints  do  wear. 

O,  trust  me — I  will  keep  it  spotless,  fair, 

For  this,  your  gracious  gift,  my  dreams  shall  win 

A  purity  serene,  no  more  therein 

May  creep  a  false  thought  ever  anywhere. 

Yet  underneath  this  love-robe — gift  of  thine — 
I  know  that  you'd  not  sinned  this  sin  of  mine 

Nor  broken  sacred  vows  as  I  have  done; 

Yet  judge  me  not  too  harshly,  Dear,  Dear  One, 

Than  mortal  women  I  have  been  most  lone, 
The  heart  must  have  a  home  I    Let  that  atone. 


[22] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XV 

Do  you  recall  the  day  when  first  we  met? 

In  The  Cathedral  'twas.     The  service  o'er 
Friends  introduced  us,  passed,  and  said  no  more, 

And  we  were  left  alone,  strangers  as  yet. 
A  sad  monastic  gloom  on  you  was  set. 

I  sensed  your  thirst  for  life,  more  life,  yet  more; — 
And  I,  too,  was  athirst  because  I  wore 

The  slave's  badge  that  so  sharply  helps  to  whet. 

I  went  not  home.     I  loathed  the  narrow  streets. 

I  longed  for  country  lanes,  deep  peace  of  air. 
I  left  the  black-roofed  city,  hastened  where 

I  saw  the  hills.     Upon  them — O !  so  sweet — 
Thick-banked  stood  trees  like  pink  mist  in  the  sun, 

Aloud    I    cried: — Thank    God!     The    Winter's 
done! 


[23] 


XVI 

We  must  be  kinder  to  each  other,  Dear, 

Than  others  are  whose  love  by  law  is  blest, 
Slower  to  wound,  cavil,  think  ill — grieve — lest 

We  break  the  iris  band  that  binds  us  near! 
We  must  be  crueller  to  each  other,  Dear, 

Than  others  are  whose  love  by  law  is  blest, 
Quicker  to  know  Truth's  shining  scalpel's  best 

'And  use  it  bravely.     No  blot  can  be  here ! 

Have  you  thought  where  'tis  set,  this  great  love- 
dower  ? 

There !  pendulous  'twixt  sacrilege  and  shame, 
Uncertain,  floating,  impotent  to  bring 

A  permanence.     OI  would  ours  were  the  power 
God-like  to  make,  create  a  soul,  a  name, 

And  touch  it  whitely  with  Life's  deathless  wing  I 


[  24 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XVII 

You've  heard  how  after  some  great  victory 

The  Caesars  triumphing  came  gayly  home, 
Red-robed,  gold  palm-embroidered — to  Rome — » 

Gods  like  unto,  with  glory  good  to  see, 
On  cars  charioted  of  ivory, 

Through  gates  triumphal,  flower-up-built  to  dome, 
While  at  their  feet  the  masses  moaning  roam 

And  they,  joy-drunk,  cry: — "/o   TriompeJ" 

Thus,  Love,  at  life's  high  noon  enter  my  heart! 

(Not  like  one  monkish  bred,  cringing  with  fear, 
Black  clad,  furtive  of  eye  for  dangers  near,) 

Come  as  the  Caesars  came !     Be  that  your  part, 
Bright  robed,  triumphant,  bold  for  victory, 

And  o'er  my  conquered  soul  cry — "Triompe!" 


IE 


THE     GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XVIII 

You  praise'd  my  speech  to-day.     You  said  I'd  caught, 

Wandering  in  many  lands  'mong  many  men, 
Colorful  vowel  richnesses  learned  then 

Of    many    tongues.     When    first    we    met    you 

thought 
This  gave  me  added  charm,  that  thus  I  ought 

Be  not  one  woman — O!  proud  praise  again! — 
But  many  since  I  had  their  tongues  and  then 

Their  charm.     Thus,  thus  you  praised  me  who 
should  not. 

But  now  what  think  you  I  have  learned  of  you? 

The  Tongue  of  Love!  which  I  knew  not  before, 
Nor  can  they  learn  it  who  o'er  books  do  pore. 

That  taught  you  me.  It  sounds  most  sweetly  too. 
I  learned  it  easily  as  children  play 

When  first  you  said:     "Yot  yo  amo  a  te!" 


[26] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XIX 

From  Peking  westward  thirty  li  there  stands, 

To  one  forth  faring  through  the  Tschengi-Thor, 
The  Lo-ku  Bridge,  buttressed,  barred  both  sides  o'er 

With  lions  cunningly  so  wrought  by  hands 
Long  dead,  no  one  who  counts  them  lives,  it  stands 

Recorded.     Whoso  tries,  counts  o'er  and  o'er, 
May  not  cease  counting,  of  aught  else  think  more, 

But  goes  mad  dreaming  of  a  lion  that  stands 

Upon  the  Lo-ku  Bridge.     You  said  'twas  true. 

And  added  softer — should  life  call  me  where 
You  are  not,  and  can  never  be,  O !  there 

I'd  go  mad  dreaming  of  the  lips  of  you, 
Counting  the  kisses  that  you  gave  to  me 

In  midnights  dark  as  old  Teng's  dynasty! 


[*7l 


THE    GARDEN    OF    ^DESIRE 

XX 

You  said — O !  how  the  words  did  surge  my  soul 

And  to  far  finger  tips  send  blood  to  spin — 
That  always  ere  the  bold  day  does  begin 

You  think  of  me ;  your  thoughts  my  thoughts  con 
trol 
Ere  day  does  of  its  noisy  strife  unroll; 

Far,  far  across  the  sweet,  unreal,  mist-thin 
City  that  sleeps,  you  claim  me  yours  and  win 

A  space  for  us  not  time's — unspotted,  whole. 

And  always  in  the  dawn  I  feel  you  near. 

Then  like  souls  in  gray  Hades  we  two  go 
Forth  through  the  silvery  silence,  there  to  know 
The  things  that  they  know  not  whose  love's  less 

dear. 
Be  this  our  dwelling,  this  pale  silent  land 

Where  Life — a  dream  like  day — waits  our  com 
mand. 


[28] 


XXI 

Our  love  is  like  a  Japan  print,  you  think, 

Rare  mulberry-paper  one,  like  gold  that's  dead? 
Foreground  a  garden,  kiosk-canopied 

O'er  moon-eyed,  magic  flowers  of  black  and  pink; 
Curved,  quaint-bridged  river;  temple  on  the  brink 

Where  lidless  eyed  sits  Buddah  unwearied, 
Dreaming  that  time  is  naught,  the  now  even  sped. 

To  westward  over  all  black  bird-dots  sink. 

Background,  a  fairy  sea  of  dreamland  blue 

Whence  mountains  rise  that  surely  once  we  knew 

In  some  dim  other  life  too  sweet  for  words. 

Aye!     Aye!  our  Love-Land!     But  those  black, 
black  birds — 

Too  like  they  are  to  monks  who  hovered  where 
That  old  Greek  garden  of  the  world  was  fair. 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 


XXII 

"Flutes  and  mandolins — a  Spanish  melody — nothing  more. 
Yet  it  seemed  as  if  the  night  were  speaking,  or  out  of  the 
night  some  passional  life  long  since  melted  into  Nature's 
mystery"  . 

LAFCADIO  HEARN 

Last  night — shall  I  forget  it  ere  I  die? 

I  lay  within  a  chamber  curtained  in 
With  red  rich  hangings  such  as  Arabs  spin, 

Sombre  of  depth,  tragic,  where  shadows  lie. 
You  reached  your  lute  and  played  a  song  keyed  high 

Upon  soft  undercurrents,  trilled  and  thin, 
Weaving  an  old  love-song  of  Spain's  therein, 

Sprayed  fine  as  waters  are  when  winds  are  nigh. 

And  then  you  played  no  more  again  that  night. 

Nor  of  song's  silver  stream  did  I  care  more. 
I  looked  into  your  eyes.     There  black  and  bright 

An  ocean  did  unroll  sans  sound,  depth,  shore — 
Across  it  sped  as  once  of  old  the  dove, 

The  golden,  glittering,  galleons  of  love ! 

[30] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 
XXIII 

"Quanta   e   bello   giovinezzal 

Ma  sen  fugge  tuttavia, 
Chi  vuol  esser  lieto  sia — 

Di  doman  non  v'e  certezza" 

LORENZO  DE   MEDICI 

No,  no,  why  talk  of  this,  your  faith,  to  me ! 

In  life  are  nobler  things  than  fast  and  prayer 
Or  silent  meditation  cloistered  where 

The  real  things  cannot  touch  us  vividly. 
Give  me  the  storm,  the  struggle!     Aye  I  give  me 

A  taste  of  all  that  is  or  here  or  there, 
For  I  would  touch  life  richly  everywhere — 

An  earth-lyre  for  emotion's  mastery. 

Dear  One,  Dear  One,  I  firmly  do  believe — » 

(O!  look  not  at  me  thus  with  eyes  that  grieve!) 
That  if  there  is  the  Heaven  to  which  you  pray 

Unto  the  cloistered  will  its  keeper  say: 
"A  garden  rich  I  gave  you.     Now  speak  truth — 
What    did    you    with    my    greatest    gift — '•your 
youth?" 

[30 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXIV 

You  spoke  upon  a  sudden  words  like  these 

Towering  above  me  in  the  crimson  room 
To  anger  stung  by  some  word  said  too  soon: 

"Aman  terriblemente  en  mi  pais!" 
Terriblemente  aman  en  mi  pais! 

Cold  sensuality's  not  there  the  boon 
We  crave;  instead,  the  force,  fury  of  noon 

Which  like  flame  purifies  impurities. 

The   whirlwinds    gulfed   me    from    your    passion's 
height 

And  swept  me  outward,  'cross  a  sea  of  night, 
Night  amethystine,  purple,  rich,  and  deep 

Where  multi-colored  stars  their  watches  keep 
And  sing  in  whirling  splendor  words  like  these — 

"Aman  terriblemente  en  mi  pais/" 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXV 

Mazeltov 

O!  sweet  is  your  forgiveness,  Dear,  to  me, 

How  sweet  I  think  and  think  and  cannot  tell; 
If  Love's  a  great,  great  thirst  it  is  the  well 

Where  I,  a  desert  wanderer,  drink  gladly; 
But  if  it's  health  and  life  lived  brave  and  free, 

It  is  as  pure  white  lilies  that  for  a  spell 
Cool  fever's  brow  and  of  green  meadows  tell — 

Such,  Dear,  has  your  forgiveness  been  to  me. 

And  then  the  little  word  with  which  it  came, 
The  Hebrew  "mazeltov" — To  you  joy's  flame! 

I  hug  it  to  my  heart  as  they  of  yore 

Who  heard  it,  perchance,  by  the  palace  door 

Of  one  who  gloried  in  proud  Babylon 
And  learned  of  love  beneath  a  younger  sun. 


[33] 


XXVI 

Mazeltov 

To-day  is  still  the  day  that  sweet  word  came 

Yet  must  I  watch  it  ebb  to  Time's  great  sea 
And  there  to  mingle  with  eternity, 

Lose  sense  and  form  and  be  no  more  a  name. 
And  yet  'tis  still  the  day.     The  words  I  frame, 

While  ocean-like  night's  mists  rise  stealthily; 
Beneath  my  window  here  there  spreads  a  sea 

From  which  twin  church-spires  spin  like  fireless 
flame. 

Behold!  the  west  has  opened.     Bless  you,  Day! 

You  would  be  gracious  to  me?     You  would  stay? 
And  all  the  sky  is  flecked  with  tumbled  light, 

Wave  beating  upon  wave,  outbreasting  night, 
Up-wrapped  as  in  a  glory  I  do  feel 

Seeing  outflung  the  roses  of  Castile ! 


[34] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXVII 

'Tis  only  these  our  bodies  that  are  near! 

Our  souls  are  sphered  in  two  far  heavens  of  space 
Where  naught  each  of  the  other  may  we  trace 

Nor  feel  the  freshness  of  a  love-wrung  tear. 
All  kindliness  does  your  heaven  ensphere, 

Mercy — and  the  tender,  piteous  grace 
Of  Judah's  chosen,  the  divine,  sad  face 

That  smiled  its  blessing  down  the  ages  drear. 

Within  my  heaven  ideal  Beauty  stands, 

The  chaste  white  goddess  of  the  cruel  hands 

And  smileless  lips  who  gives  naught  and  asks  all, 
From  whom  our  praises  slip  as  scorned  gems  fall. 

Yet  would  I  have  her  other  if  I  could? 

Her  slaves  have  said — Beauty's  as  great  as  Good ! 


[35] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXVIII 

You  asked  me  why  I  love  you.     This  is  why, 

Told  in  the  Hebrew  lore:     The  Mischna  tells 
How  Abraham,  a  boy,  his  idols  sells, 

Then,  tiring,  searched  for  God  both  far  and  nigh. 
Night  came.     He  saw  the  stars  strew  thick  the  sky, 

"Surely  that's  God !"     The  moon  rose  with  her 

spells. 
"No,  no,  that's  God!"     Awe  from  his  spirit  wells: 

But  moon  and  stars  fade  fast  and  night  passed 
by. 

Rich  with  the  fervor  of  its  sun  rose  day. 

"I  know  now  none  has  found  God  and  none  may! 
The  force  is  He  behind  the  day  and  night!" 

Cried  Abraham  in  rapture  at  the  light. 
Thus  I  love  not  for  outward  shows  nor  gold, 

But  for  the  silent  love  your  heart  does  hold. 


[36] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXIX 

I,  too,  have  touched  Life's  idols,  found  them  clay, 

Then,  broken-hearted,  sought  some  better  thing, 
The  while  unfolded  o'er  me  like  a  wing 

The  panorama  of  the  night  and  day. 
A  petty  part  I  played  within  a  play 

While  Spring  and  Summer  scenery  did  fling 
Round  me  fit  for  the  great  gods  glorying, 

And  set  suns,  gem-like,  on  the  breast  of  day. 

At  last  the  power  behind  it  I  did  learn. 

I  met  you  and  the  meaning  was  made  clear; 
Then  I  built  worthy  of  the  garden  here. 

My  heart's  a  dwelling  now  gods  may  not  spurn, 
So  high  it  towers  it  tops  the  clouds  above 

To  house  you  fittingly,  my  Love,  my  Love  I 


[37] 


THE    GARDEN    O.E    DESIRE 

XXX 

Gale'd 

Jacob  and  Laban  for  their  love's  great  need 

A  stone  tower  built — as  Hebrew  scholars  know — 
To  mark  the  ending  of  a  grievous  woe, 

Upon     stone     then     set     stone,     crying — "God 
speed!" 
Finished,  they  prayed:     "Be  this  now  called  Gale'd! 

Past  it  let  each  to  other  never  go 
With  thought  of  anger,  grief,  suspicion,  woe, 

For  peace  must  rest  upon  the  tower  Gale'd" 

Thus  to  us  be,  O  Love!  this  crimson  room 
So  rich  with  curtains  of  an  orient  bloom 

Which  sun-pale  women  wrought,  dreaming  of  men 
Who'd  rush  to  meet  them  with  the  dusk  again; 

Whene'er  we  enter  here  let  sad  thoughts  be 
Deep  buried  in  our  love's  immensity. 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXXI 

Faith  is  the  soul's  pure  garment,  is  it  not, 

That  covers  well  from  cold  within  a  world 
Divine  things  had  not  been  in,  had  not  whirled 

From  battlemented  light  the  Demon,  Thought; 
Whose  soul-garment  is  richest  he  cannot 

See  grief  nor  sorrow  plainly,  though  unfurled 
The  black,  tear-dyed  pinions  of  Death's  own  world 

A-flutter  o'er  his  head,  of  horror  wrought. 

Outside  your  sheltered  warmth,  a  pilgrim,  I 
Do  come  and  lowly  kneel  where  you  sit  high — 

Soul-naked  do  I  come  as  humble  ones 

Who  in  some  fair,  far  south  seek  meed  of  suns — 

O !  crueller  than  to  them  rude  Winter's  wing, 
Life's  storms  to  her  who  seeks  such  sheltering! 


[39] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXXII 

That  little  song  you  sang  to  me,  Dear  One, 

Has  blotted  out  the  present,  brought  to  view 
This  painted  vision  that  a  pagan  knew: 

Quai  of  Alexandria,  low,  fading  sun, 
Frail,  floating,  purple  night-shadows  that  run 

Across  sands  deeply  bronze,  dulled  by  no  dew; 
A  maid,  nude,  save  for  gauze  crocus  in  hue 

Through  which  shines  polished  flesh  like  to  a  sun. 

Two  flute  players  stroll  past  unto  the  feasts, 

Flower-ankleted  and  girdled — Joy's  young  Priests; 

Beside  the  crocus  maid  they  pause  and  sing 
In  shrill  tones  colored  like  the  bronze  evening. 

She  hears  and  trembles  her  gold  gauzes  through: 
"O  le  desir  est  douloureux  et  doux!" 


[40] 


XXXIII 

We  met  last  night  beside  a  northern  lake 

Whirled  there  'cross  prairie  levels  bleached  with 

heat, 
For  rain  athirst,  as  we  athirst  to  meet 

And  in  the  northern  night  our  longing  slake. 
Beneath  our  window  spread,  far,  pale,  the  lake 

Crooning  a  song  of  sleep,  belated,  sweet, 
Away,  away,  the  veiled  moon  did  fleet, 

Dream  shadow  for  the  rhythmic  night  to  wake. 

Clear  came  the  dawn,  and  chill  and  coldly  blue, 
Black,  stern,  upon  the  shore  pines  rose  to  view. 

Beneath  our  window  floated  in  from  far, 

Dead  fish,  silver,  shining,  as  young  moons  are; 

Out  o'er  that  azure  distance  pure  as  prayer 

I  looked  and  knew  that  that  night  storms  dwelled 
there. 


[40 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXXIV 

Just  as  we  left  the  lake  I  saw  near  by 

A  night-bird  sheltered  in  a  black  pine's  shade, 
By  bold  bright  thunder  of  the  light  dismayed, 

There  fled  to  shelter  till  dusk  touched  the  sky. 
Within  his  mimic  night  he  nestled  nigh 

Unto  the  great  tree's  trunk,  blinking,  afraid; 
Grief  clutched  my  heart.     Like  him  you  are  not 
made 

For  noisy  daylight,  I  think  quick,  and  sigh. 

You  are  my  black,  black  night-bird!     Well  I  know 
You'll  leave  me  for  the  dusk  again  and  go 

Through  twilights  on  and  on,  forgetful,  free, 
Pale  silences  down-floating,  far  from  me, 

And  I  shall  be  as  in  daylight  a  star 

That  fades  and  falters  where  the  lightnings  are. 


[42] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXXV 

O!  Love's  a  crystal  cup  filled  rim  to  rim 

And  set  for  us  by  gods  at  Life's  banquet, 
Where  we  may  drink  and  drink  as  Titans  yet 

Find  always  there  is  sweetness  at  the  brim: 
When  laughter's  ringing  loud,  who  sits  there  grim 

And  scorns  the  gift,  the  best  the  gods  have  set, 
Will  find  it  empty  if  he  try  to  wet 

Late  at  Life's  banquet  board  dead  lips  and  dim. 

Come,  Love,  I  pledge  you  in  this  goodly  gift! 

High !  high !  above  our  heads  the  cup  now  lift  I 
Let's  drain  it  here  together,  you  and  I, 

For  ages  that  come  after  we'll  not  sigh, 
For  we  have  bought  the  best  with  this  our  breath — 

Alone  remembered  joy  is  safe  from  death. 


[43] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 
XXXVI 

"Of  palagio   d'llio,   in   alta   stanza — " 

GABRIELE  D'ANNUNZIO 

I'm  grateful  for  that  sonnet  that  you  read 

With  such  a  thrill  of  voice  I  seemed  to  see 
The  laughing  Cyclades  again,  gayly 

Ships  slipping  down  the  shining  wind's  roadsteac 
That  sweeps  to  Troy.     'Twas  like  a  frame  you  said 

That  sonnet  in  the  tongue  of  Italy, 
To  frame  one  fine  last  line,  clean-chiselled,  free — 

The  love-night  of  two  lovers  long  since  dead. 

Helen,  the  white  loved  one,  it  said,  grieved  not 
Nor  evermore  of  Greece,  home,  kindred,  thought 

The  while  the  ship  sped  on.     There  rose  to  mind. 
Like  visions  of  the  day  unto  the  blind, 

A  room  wherein  rich  gems  Love's  luster  shed 
Upon  a  cedar-wrought,  gold,  gleaming  bed. 


[44] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 
XXXVII 

"Mujer   mas  pura  que  la  luz   serena, 
'Mas    negra   que    la   sombra   del   pecado." 

How  I  do  love  your  voice  when  thus  you  read 
The  poets  of  your  soft  and  southern  tongue 
Whose  vowels  are  like  silver  prayer-bells  rung 
Within  the  oratory  of  Love's  creed, 
Where  longing  is  the  incense  to  up-speed, 
And  consonants  are  hushed  like  prayer  among 
Gray,  gliding  nuns,  when  vesper  songs  are  sung 
And  they  ask  pardon  for  sins  sweet  indeed. 

The  last  line !     How  your  voice  did  tremble  there, 
Caressing  lovingly  each  cadenced  sound, 

Tonal  sonorousness,  new,  rich,  soon  found 
To  weave  a  magic  on  the  waiting  air  I 

I  love  you  for  that  subtle  sense  of  art 
Where  one  with  me  forever  is  your  heart. 


[45l 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXXVIII 

My  heart  is  filled  with  joy  like  spring-fed  streams 
Which  bubbling  overflow  a  barren  land, 
To  leave  with  lavishness  on  either  hand 
Green  ripple  of  leaf-dance,  and  petal  gleams. 
My  heart  is  filled  with  joy  like  spring-fed  streams 
By  floating,  fragile,  white  mist-billows  fanned, 
Prismatic  curtains  by  the  sun's  light  planned, 
The  substance  iridescent  of  our  dreams. 

My  heart  is  filled  with  joy,  for  Love  dwells  there, 
New  Heaven  for  me  making  and  new  Earth — 

Love!     Love! — the  God-dream,  that  to  joy  gives 

birth. 
'Tis  this  I  know  well  makes  the  world  so  fair, 

'Tis  this  which  is  the  music  all  things  sing — 
The  crocus  dawn — the  sunset  crimsoning. 


[46] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XXXIX 

Late  met  we  last  night  by  the  lake  again 

When  faint  for  dawn  I  felt  the  dark  to  be; 
Mist-veiled,  the  water  lay  all  silently, 

An  opal,  mystic,  dim,  Hungarian. 
Beneath  its  milky  whiteness  I  knew  when 

The  call  of  day  came  crisping  clear  and  free, 
Troubling  within  the  trees  birds  dream-drowsy 

A  maze  of  misty  flame  would  leap  again. 

So  from  my  heart  as  night  mists  dropped  adown 
And  earth  became  an  opal  for  Love's  crown, 

No  real  world  anywhere,  nothing  but  this, 
I  knew  that  with  sun-splendor  of  your  kiss 

There'd  come  a  wonder  as  with  dawn  there  came 
And  from  Love's  opal  heart  would  leap  a  flame. 


[47] 


THE    GARDEN    OR    DESIRE 

XL 

We  waked  not  till  again  the  cruel  'day  came. 

The  level  lake  with  fire  was  burnished  white. 
It  bit  into  the  eyes,  wounded  the  sight, 

And  all  the  barren  land  was  like  a  flame. 
We  lay  beside  a  window  wherein  came 

The  scent  and  sight  of  cedars,  their  slim  height 
Above  them,  higher  towering,  black  as  night, 

One  sad  and  sombre  pine — the  badge  of  shame 

Within  its  glooming  shadows  I  saw  glare 
The  night-bird  of  the  wild  and  awful  stare, 

My  black,  black  Bird  of  Night,  to  you  I  cried, 
In  peace  let  me  a  little,  pray,  abide, 

Then  to  your  twilights  take  me,  Bird  of  Night, 
Since  now  I'm  one  with  you:  I  fear  the  light. 


[48] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XLI 

Again,  again  you  ask  how  you  can  know 
How  much  I  really  love  you?     This  to  me! 
All  women  I  do  envy  that  I  see 
If  they  have  aught  of  youth  or  charm  to  show, 
And  wonder,  would  you  like  me  better  so, 
If  better  thus,  if  thus  changed  I  might  be, 
Count  o'er  the  years  of  youth  still  left  to  me 
Praying:  "Dear  God,  make  time  go  very  slow!" 

For   you    I've    plunged    me    from    calm's   peerless 

height, 

And  dwarfed  my  soul  for  Envy's  shabby  door ; 
Yet  know   that   I  would   cry:     "Dear   God,    give 

more!" 

If  for  the  asking  I  could  have  to-night 

Gold  Helens  and  all  dear  dead  ones'  beauty 

Since  for  your  love  so  little  it  would  be. 


[49] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XLII 

He  said  when  ready  for  the  ball  I  stood — 

Mi  esposo — "These  gems  will  you  not  wear?" 
Down  bending  then  to  fasten  pearl  tears  where 

You've  set  the  rubies  of  Love's  solitude. 
And  I  said,  laughing  strangely,  wild  of  mood — 

"I'd  like  a  corsage  gem  of  grapes  to  wear 
Upon  my  breast,  my  arms,  my  throat,  my  hair — 

Black,    bursting   grapes,    the   fiercest   suns   hav 
wooed!" 

And  all  night  while  the  music  rose  and  fell 

I  felt  your  black  curls  touch  me,  loved  them  well 

Felt  float  across  my  face  spice  scents  from  south, 
Felt  on  my  lips  the  hot  breath  of  your  mouth, 

Vineyards  I  saw,  gold-dusted  grapes  in  stack — 
Your  black,  black  curls  flung  passionately  back. 


[50] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XLIII 

How  ebon  rich,  how  wondrous,  is  your  hair! 

When  here  it  floats  beside  me  darkly  free, 
This  is  the  vision  that  I  seem  to  see: 

A  roof  in  Nineveh  the  Ancient  where 
Night  long  there  pulses  upward  on  the  air 

The    breath    of    the    great    earth-breast's    heat 

fiercely, 
A  Titan's  passion  like  to,  first  set  free 

With  blackness  of  the  night,  exhaustless,  there. 

A3  woman,  passion-pale,  with  gems  like  rain, 
Leans  listless  by  stone  parapets,  again 

Lifts  arms  voluptuous  toward  where  afar 
A  rider's  armor  shines  beneath  a  star, 

Her  jewels  all  a-shiver  as  a  pearl 

When  into  ocean  depths  die  sun-rays  whirl. 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XLIV 

To-night  a  magic  sail,  Love,  is  your  hair 

That  wafts  o'er  waters  that  know  not  the  sun, 
Where  stars  come  not,  nor  bright  the  dawn  lights 
run, 

And  black  a  basalt  palace  towers  there. 
There  mingle  all  night  long  upon  the  air 

The  murmurings  of  Love's  oblivion, 
With  songs  of  many  waters,  one  by  one 

Flung  o'er  stone  dream  of  arches  black  and  bare. 

Voluptuously  listening  here  I  lie 

Learning  the  languors  of  that  unseen  sea, 

Its  rich  accords,  its  magic,  mystery. 

The  night  grows  deep  within  your  eyes — my  sky. 

There  wild  stars  rise.     Soon,  soon  our  love  will  be 
Swelling  the  black  night  palace  harmony. 


[52] 


THE    GARDEN    OR    DESIRE 

XLV 

Your  hair  I  love  despite  its  selfish  hue 

Made  up  of  treasured  sun-gold  held  in  fee, 
Not  one  reflected  ray  has  been  set  free, 

Therefore  it  is  so  brightly  black  to  view. 
Ages  of  eastern  passion  made  this  hue 

Dark  as  its  deepest  midnights  ere  can  be, 
Splendid  as  noons  the  skies  strike  blanchingly, 

So  fiercely  black,  so  cruelly  bright  it  grew. 

Gold  hair  gives  back  again  whate'er  it  takes, 
Much  shine  and  shimmer  in  the  sunlight  makes; 

Your  hair  for  aeons  has  drunk  deep  the  sun; 
Slow  ages  swirl  beneath  me,  one  by  one; 

Unto  my  heart  come  thoughts  that  I  fear  there, 
At  sight  of  the  black  passion  of  your  hair  1 


:[53l 


THE    GARDEN    OF,  DESIRE 


XLVI 

When  in  your  hair  like  this  I  hide  my  face 

I  sense  sharp  savors  of  Autumn  divine, 
See  tree-boles  black  against  the  dusky  shine 

Of  early  night;  frost-blooms  like  flaunted  lace 
Upon   the   hills;    flocked   birds    sweeping   through 
space; 

Sombre  the  forest  aisles,  all  powdered  fine 
With  twilight  dust — sepia  crystalline — 

And  to  my  heart,  too,  twilight  comes  apace. 

What  is  that  numbing  fragrance  in  your  hair ! 

Down  those  dim  forest  aisles, — lo !  dancing  there, 
One  scarlet  clad!  Slow  notes  shiver  the  night. 

They  tremble  down  her  head  disks  like  sunlight; 
By  subtle  Moorish  scents  my  face  is  fanned — 

O !  dance  for  me  again  the  Saraband  1 


TJ4] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XLVII 

Couleur  tabac  d'Espagne — your  eyes  are,  Love, 

Clearly    and    sweetly    brown,    with    sun    shone 

through 
At  mid-day  when  of  merry  mood  are  you — 

Mirth's  mirrors,  such  as  brooklets  to  the  dove. 
Couleur  topaz  d'Espagne — my  tawny  Love — 

Topazes  filled  with  diamond's  eyes  of  you 
When  shadows  lengthen  and  soft  falls  the  dew — 

Dusk's  jewelled  passion — Oh!  my  tawny  Love! 

But  when  midnight  her  magic  does  distil, 
Then  fathomless,  a  black  abyss,  your  eyes 

Where  death,  destruction  lurk,  and  whence  arise 
Sweet  danger  calls  that  swift  my  pulses  thrill. 

Yes,  yes,  'tis  Fate  that's  king  and  ruleth  all; 
Lo !  I  am  one  to  whom  the  deeps  do  call. 


T5J] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

XLVIII 

Our  arms  together  twined  twin  marbles  are: 

Yours,  brown,  Numidian,  warm,  turquoise-veined, 
Mine,  pale  Pentelican,  rose,  faintly  stained — 

Two  tinted  figurines  of  Tanagra. 
In  mine  I  see  the  north  which  snowfields  mar, 

In  yours  I  see  the  languors  unrestrained 
Of  Asiatic  noons — Afric  regained — 

Life  lived  beneath  a  sun  oracular. 


Be  to  me,  Sweet,  a  city  of  the  south, 

The  garden  of  its  richness  be  your  mouth; 

In  kisses  pour  Egyptian  lavender, 

The  strange,  sleep-swaying  scents  of  Lydia, 

Pour  on  my  arms  to  dull  their  sharp  whiteness 
Rose-liquor  from  the  mountains  of  Cyprus! 


[56] 


THE    GARDEN    OF.    DESIRE 


XLIX 

"Chmnque  venne  qui,  porto  con  se  il  suo  mistero  amoroso." 

MATILDE  SERAO 

This  vision  of  my  childhood  comes  to  me: 

A  little  river  by  my  northern  home, 
A  mountain  river,  noisy,  white  with  foam, 

Brave-hearted,  full  of  laughter,  song  and  glee, 
Myself  like  to  in  those  old  days  care-free, 

It  longed  for  other  scenes  and  left  the  home ; 
I  met  it  far  away,  now  silent  grown 

Mid  meadows;  sad,  with  nearness  of  the  sea. 

O  little  mountain  river  I  I'm  like  you, 

Hushed,  silenced,  by  the  wonder  of  life,  too, 
Struck  fear-dumb  by  the  nearness  of  a  sea 

Which,  as  for  you  the  ocean,  waits  for  me; 
Were  it  not  there  with  cruel,  baleful  glow 

I'd  not  have  lived  life  thus — O  no,  no,  no ! 


C57l 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

L 

O  let  me  be  a  child  to  you  to-night ! 

Take  from  me  lore  of  love  and  all  its  pain, 

Then  tell  some  fabled  tale  of  olden  Spain 

And  let  me  listen  with  a  child's  delight! 

O  let  me  be  a  child  to  you  to-night ! 

So  tired  am  I  of  stress  and  strife  and  strain — 

Of  life — the  puzzle  naught  can  now  make  plain, 

Of  balance  keeping  between  wrong  and  right  1 

You've  asked  me  often  if  I  ever  pray. 

Can  any  to  that  question  answer — nay? 
What  are  ambition,  effort, — life — but  prayer, 

What  are  all  great  desires  everywhere? 
I'm  praying  now  beneath  your  eyes'  love-light — 

O  let  me  be  a  child  again  to-night  I 


[58] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

LI 

Upon  this  point  of  time  flung  island-wise 

Between  two  boundless  oceans  deep  as  thought, 
With  up-surge  of  the  world-tides  we  are  caught 

And  for  a  moment  held  in  poised  surprise. 
The  beacon  of  desire  flames  in  our  eyes, 

We  stretch  out  tremblingly  hands  love-distraught 
And  clasp  each  other  close,  caring  for  naught, 

High  on  the  pinnacle  of  destinies. 

And  you  are  happy,  Love!     You  think  we  go 
On,  on,  hand  clasped  in  hand,  forever  so, 

And  carelessly  kiss  me  with  soft  caress ; 
I  kiss  back  with  a  passion  measureless 

Because  I  know  that  even  to  hope  is  vain — 
The  deeps  will  never  let  us  meet  again  1 


[59] 


THE    GARDEN    OF,    DESIRE 

LII 

I  look  out  toward  the  gray  Missouri  Hills. 

Behold ! — there  Spring  comes  back  to  us  again, 
Upon  my  window  beats  its  first  wild  rain 

And  scents  of  Summer  now  the  dawn  distils. 
Trees,  prayerful,  armed,  ascetic,  some  joy  thrills. 

Shining  gun-metal  gray  the  long  streets  stain 
Where  pales  the  passion  of  the  first  Spring  rain, 

Sweeping  from  off  the  gray  Missouri  Hills. 

Adown  their  shimmering  length  looking  I  see 
The  colors  as  of  rainbows  steal  softly; 

Unseen  hands  crocuses  and  jonquils  fling, 
I  see  the  splendors  of  immortal  Spring 

And  know  'tis  but  reflection  of  my  heart — 

Eternal  Spring  dwells  where  enthroned  thou  art. 


[60] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

LITI 

You  took  my  fingers — thus — and  bent  them  back, 

Slowly,  then  one  by  one,  giving  to  each 
Some  special  love-name  from  your  Spanish  speech — 

"Muy  carinoso" — sadly  said — Alack! 
Plucked  them  as  petals  from  your  passion's  track, 

Stripped  bare  the  trembling  flower-heart  to  beseech 
The  red,  red  rose  your  lips  leaned  low  to  reach 

Unto  my  palm — the  fingers  thus  bent  back. 

You  said:  "Now  close  your  hand,  quick!  quick,  Dear 
One! 

I've  sealed  upon  it  there  in  Moorish  guise 
The  rose-tree  seal  of  Allah's  Paradise; 

Should  I  be  ever  where  you're  not,  Dear  One, 
Like  Life's  tree  which  by  sacred  Tesnim  grew, 

This  rose  shall  bud  and  blossom — shelter  you !" 


[61] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

LIV 

How  can  it  matter  what  they  were  to  me, 

The  old,  old  lovers  of  the  days  long  dead, 
Nor  what  they  whispered  fondly,  what  I  said, 

Since  it  is  all  so  far  away  from  me ! 
O!  blot  not  thus  hours  bought  so  bitterly 

By  useless  brooding  o'er  things  vanished, — dead; 
The  past,  Dear,  is  a  tide  that's  hastened 

Back,  back  again  unto  the  shoreless  sea. 

O  foolish,  foolish  fond  one  that  you  are! 

How  much  you  owe  them  of  the  long  ago 
Who  taught  me  lore  of  love,  its  restless  woe — 

Love !  Love !  the  bitter  art  whose  masters  are 
Than  Spartan  mothers  crueller  since  they  say — 

The  arms  that  bring  you  joy  likewise  must  slay! 


[62] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

LV 

Sadly  I  watched  the  dancers  gayly  dressed — 

A  silken  river  of  frail  iris  sheen 
O'er-fluttered  by  winged  fans;  watched  heads  down 
lean 

In  languor  to  be  sweetly  word  caressed; 
O !  weary  was  the  heart  within  my  breast 

Though  ribboned  light  on  mirrored  walls   such 

sheen 
Of  bright  foam  flung,  as  when  flowers  overlean 

A  river's  marge  and  dance  at  wind's  behest. 

Outside  within  the  night  your  lute-string  trilled. 

The  yellow  whirling  ball-room  floated  far, 
We  stood  together  'neath  the  morning  star; 

You  reached  a  lilac  branch  with  blossoms  filled, 
O'er  me  was  flung  its  jewelled,  fragrant  rain — 

"Love!   clasp    me   close,"   I   cried, — "the   dawn 
again!" 


[63] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

LVI 

I  dreamed  a  dream  of  fields  vivid  with  Spring, 
Strown   o'er  with   scentless   flowers   of   fleckless 

white 
Which   said:     "We   are   thy  youth's   first  loves!" 

Aright 

They  seemed  to  me  as  snow  upon  the  Spring. 
This   dream   passed.     Next   into   Doom's   Land   I 

swing, 

Before  from  the  abyss  there  rose  to  sight 
One  giant  amorous  lily,  black  as  night — 
A  flame  of  ebony  the  days  there  bring. 

The  Doom-Pit  and  the  lily  were  as  one. 

I  dropped  down  their  entangling,  dim  twilight, 
In  sable  petals  folded  deep  as  night, 

Dreaming  how  once  you  said  to  me,  Dear  One, 
When  eagerly  you  leaned  my  hair  to  kiss — 

"Your  eyes  are  a  black  dangerous  abyss  I" 


[64] 


LVII 

"Espejo    encantado?     .     .     .     Espejo    encantado 
gomo  en  el  que  Fans  to  mirb  a  Margarita, 

donde   se  proyecta,   donde   resuscita 
visiones    efimeras — todo  lo  pasado." 

FRANCISCO  VILLAESPESA 

At  night,  twin  urns,  your  eyes  are  filled  with  sleep 

From  some  far,  silent  sea  I  do  not  know, 
Some  far,  far  sea  whither  I  may  not  go, 

Where  you  do  leave  me  for  the  tideless  deep. 
At  dawn  when  you  come  back  again  you  keep 

Your  soul  so  recessed,  hidden  from  me  so, 
Our  old  love  seems  as  steps  in  melting  snow 

Hastening  unto  the  twin,  dim  urns  of  sleep. 

As  one  within  a  twilight  lone  I  feel 

While  gorgeous-winged  some  great  strange  bird 

sweeps  past 
And  brushes  me  with  wings — ah!  brightly  vast. 

The  promise  that  Life  longs  for  most  I  feel 
Has  flashed  its  gold  upon  me.     I  can  keep 
Only  the  shadow  in  the  urns  of  sleep. 
[65] 


LVIII 

The  Spring  sun  has  swathed  us  in  its  toga'd  light. 

O !  why  were  we  not  born  in  Sybaris ! 
I  smell  Damascus  roses,  sharp  iris, 

See  streets  Lucanian,  gay,  thus  by  night: 
Rich  balconies  of  marble  hid  from  sight 

By  tapestries  and  silks  of  Sybaris; 
The  peplus  purpling,  the  bold  chlamys; 

Greeks  ankleted  in  gems;  while  buskined  bright 

Soft-footed  Asiatics  come  and  go; 

Women  with  pale  eyelids  powdered  blue, 
Upon  their  lips  that  smile  the  sphinxes  knew; 

Men  calm  of  face  as  chiselled  cameo, 
All  sauntering  unto  some  love-bought  bliss. 

O !  why  were  we  not  born  in  Sybaris  1 


[66] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    VESIRE 

LIX 

With  a  Gift  of  Eastern  Perfume 

Egyptian  baccharis!     This  gift  I  prize. 

Of  old  your  slave  as  now  I  watched  you  go 
With  one  crowned  with  the  pheasant's  topaz  glow. 

"Who's  that,"  she  cried,  "whose  heart  shakes  in 

her  eyes?" 
To  me  pointing.     I  dared  not  run  nor  rise, 

But,  crouching,  o'er  your  baccar  buds  bent  low. 
A  slave  with  flowers  only  a  queen  may  know? 

Some  royal  lover,  hath  she,  I  surmise ! 

Straightway  within  her  eyes  my  doom  I  read. 

Like  lightning  blue  the  lances  shook  o'er  me. 
I  was  not  worth  your  crown  I     How  could  I  be  I 

But  when  within  your  eyes  the  look  I  read, 
I  thought:     "For  this  death's  cheap — aye  I  cheap 
the  price — 

For  one  such  other  I  would  meet  it  twice  I" 


[67] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 
LX 

"Che  fai  tu,  luna,   in   del?  dimmi,   che  fai, 
Silenz'io  sa  luna?" 

LEOPARDI 

How  sad,  how  sad  the  moon  is,  Dear,  to-night, 

And  strangely  chill  the  wind,  as  if  it  came 
From  barren  space  beyond  the  bright  sun's  flame; 

To-night  there  dwells  a  horror  in  the  night. 
How  sad,  how  sad  the  wind  is,  Dear,  to-night, 

And  O I  so  full  of  grief,  regret,  and  shame 
And  fear  of  thousand  things  that  have  no  name  1 

The  stars  even  wink  back  their  tears,  to-night. 

O!  break  upon  me,  storm  of  grief — break!  break! 

Hiding  black  hearts  behind  that  pallid  moon, 
The  sooner  will  come  calmness,  sun,  and  noon. 

Take  me  within  your  arms,  Dear,  quickly  take ! 
I'm  so  afraid  of  life,  aye! — love — I  seem 

To  want  to  die  awhile — then  wake — to  dream. 


[68] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

LXI 

How  sad,  how  sad  the  moon  is,  Dear,  to-night — 

Pale  woman  in  her  grave-clothes  seeking  there 
Along  the  azure  meadows  of  the  air, 

The  way  that  leadeth  back  to  life  and  light. 
She  trembles  and  her  face  with  fear  is  white 

Astray  amid  that  cold  strange  splendor  there; 
Gold  star-flowers  stare  with  eyes  that  do  not  care 

.While  she  gropes  broken-hearted  down  the  night. 

Pull  low  that  purple  lilac !     Yes ! — this  way. 

When — list! — you  kiss  me  thus,  let  her  not  see, 
She's  so  athirst  for  love  she'd  envy  me, 

Poor,  poor  lost  lonely  one,  wound  her  not,  pray! 
Why,  Dear,  the  glad  great  gods  themselves  I  think 

For  kisses  such  as  these  would  cross  death's  brink ! 


[69] 


THE    GARDEN    OF.    DESIRE 
LXII 

"Venisti.     O   nuntii  beati." 

CATULLUS 

The  stars  are  trembling  wind-blown  lamps  to-night 
By  nymphs  upheld  whose  bare,  white  feet  now  flee 
Adown  the  winding  stairs  of  ivory 
That  cross  the  terraced  Garden  of  the  Night. 
Sly  Nymphs!     How  they  spin  on  in  fluttered  flight 
Their  misty,  gossamer  gowns  out-floating  free, 
Dot-like,  red,  little  mouths;  eyes  wide  to  see; 
Hair  like  sun-flushed  tree-tops  at  sweet  twilight. 

Unto  the  Opal  Chambers  of  the  Moon, 
The  irised  chambers  of  old  revelry 
They  hasten  down  Night's  stairs  of  ivory. 
Faint  grow  the  little  star-lamps.     They  fade  soon. 
But  through  frost  ferns  faint,  pallid  lustres  creep 
Where  white-armed  little  Nymphs  sleep  love's  deep 
sleep. 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 
LXIII 

"Scrivo  sol  per  sfogar  I'interna  doglia" 

VlTTORIA    COLONNA 

My  heart's  a  wound  of  piteousness  to-day 

Because  our  crimson  room  last  night  was  seen 

The  shadow  of  all  sin  since  time  has  been — 
That  color  that  Macbeth  washed  not  away. 

Fear  came  between  our  kisses  then.     "Nay!  nay! — 
The  world,  how  can  it  know  our  love  has  been?" 

The  moon — look! — tells  it  now  to  stars  that  lean 

In  eagerness;  and  they  to  winds  that  sway 

The  talking  trees.     Ah!  when  I  leave  you,  Dear, 
What  horrors  in  the  dawn  upon  me'll  seize 

At  many  fingered  mockery  of  leaves 

A-point  at  me !     The  world  will  see — will  hear—' 

The  merciless  white  Day  no  one  deceives, 
And  O!  all  those  black-fingered,  scornful  trees! 


II 

THE  PASSING  OF  LOVE 


"Now,  thou  Hyacinth,  whisper  the  letters  on  thee 
graven  and  add  a  deeper  ai,  ai  to  thy  petals." 

— Moschus 


"Partir — c'est  mourir  un  pen!" 

FRANCESCO   PAOLO  TOSTI 

1T\AY!  and  its  light  falls  on  a  thousand  hills! 
-•-^       Day !  and  its  strength  flows  in  upon  the  heart  I 
High  up  in  air  fine  fleece-white  clouds  do  part, 

And  countless  little  valleys  now  light  fills. 
Midsummer's  ecstasy  the  whole  world  thrills; 

Drowsing  the  ox  pulls  slow  the  creaking  cart 
Nor  pauses  at  bird-trill  to  look,  or  start, 

Nepenthes  with  the  Summer  day  distils. 

O  Summer,  red-lipped  Summer,  on  my  soul 

Pour  all  your  sleep-sweet  balms  I     There  stop  the 
roll 

Of  longing,  futile  thought,  repining — pain — 
That  like  thy  hills  I,  too,  may  know  again — 

Though  he  be  gone — the  mid-day's  drowsy  deep; 
Summer,  for  me  dreamless  nepenthes  steep ! 


[75] 


THE    GARDEN    OR    DESIRE, 

II 

The  Dream  of  Spain 

Tad'ma's  Italian  Spring! — the  languor,  light, 

That  bathes  in  lucent  waves  that  marbled  sweep 
Veined  rich  as  are  those  women  there  who  keep, 

Idling  by  day,  flower-crowned,  a  dream  of  night! 
Frail,  blossom-hung,  a  pink  Spring  tree  to  right, 

Where  silent,  saffron-robed,  one  watch  does  keep 
O'er  waters  deep  as  are  his  own  thoughts  deep, 

Scorning  near  joys  for  fancy's  fond  delight. 

0 1  never  yet  saw  sun  a  sea  so  blue, 
So  Tyrian-toned,  so  violet-rich  in  hue ! 

There  he  who  watches  sees — (or  is't  a  dream, 
Or  where  sunbeams,  glancing,  on  billows  gleam?) 

Haze-crested  hills,  a  gold  and  magic  main, 
And  whispers  softly  as  now  I :  "Spain !  Spain !" 


THE    GARDEN    OF    'DESIRE 

III 

Let  there  be  dance  and  laughter,  sound  of  song, 

Soft  glances  interchange  and  merriment, 
That  from  Joy's  too  full  cup  to  others  sent 

Drops  overflowing  to  me  may  belong. 
Let  me  be  'mid  the  laughter-loving  throng, 

To  my  dead  heart  their  life-passion  be  lent, 
Who  now  am  but  a  beggar  worn  and  bent, 

Crouched  down  by  others'  fires  when  winds  are 
strong. 

That  it  could  not  have  lasted,  well  I  know — 
Too  few — alas ! — youth's  years  now  left  to  me ; 

Love's  spared  itself  a  hideous  tragedy, 

Than  which  none  bitterer  life  has  to  show — < 

The  tragedy  of  them  that  Time  has  sold, 
The  vision  of  a  woman  growing  old! 


[77] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

IV 

Within  the  Summer  dawn  I  'dreamed  a  dream 

Of  sand  wastes  where  a  strange  procession  came: 
Men  patriarchal,  stern,  robed  in  white  flame, 

Who  knelt  and  lifted  empty  hands  that  seem 
To  plead  for  something,  while  with  scorn  supreme: 

"Thy  future  years  are  we !     Ask  not  our  name ! 
We  empty-handed  come.     Each  one  the  same." 

I  knew  they  reached  the  gray  horizon's  gleam. 

"Look!    Look    behind  1" — I    cried — "the    cherubs 
there 

Upholding  each  a  wine  glass,  rich,  flower-crowned, 
Mirrored  within  whose  radiant  deeps  is  found 

My  love  and  I — immortal — earth-gods  fair. 
The  future,  stern,  stern  keepers,  take !  'tis  thine. 

I  care  not,  for  that  red  rose  past  is  mine  I" 


[78] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 


If  life  and  love  are  garments  that  grow  old 

And  frayed  and  soiled  as  those  that  beggars  wear, 
I'll  put  them  from  me  while  they  still  are  fair. 

And  purply  splendid,  still  undimmed  their  gold. 
I  will  not  suffer  word  of  them  be  told 

That's  pitiful  or  hath  a  grievous  air, 
Joy  shall  be  on  them  blazoned  everywhere 

As  on  twin  standards  of  the  warrior  soul. 

I  will  not  wait  till  Hope — that  coward  bird — 
Does  backward  fly  becoming  Memory, 

Untruths  to  prattle  to  me  foolishly. 

The  day  that  first  my  heart  shall  bring  me  word 

I'll  leave  forever  these  twin  robes  of  state 

And  laugh  to  know  Grief  could  not  make  me  wait 


[79] 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

VI 

For  days  I  sit  and  think  and  cannot  speak. 

Forgotten  have  I  how  to  live,  it  seems, 
Without  you — altar-place  of  all  my  dreams — 

The  heart  it  is  so  pitiful  and  weak. 
For  days  I  sit  and  think  and  cannot  speak 

While  round  me  living  murmurs  till  it  seems 
The  rushing  water  round  some  wrecked  ship's  beams, 

Nor  know  day's  joined  with  day,  nor  week  with 
week. 

And  then  some  word  you  said  to  me  comes  back, 
Some  little  word  you  whispered  long  ago, 

And  I  forget  my  grief  and  wake  to  know 
The  miracle  the  rolling  year  brings  back, 

The  miracle  of  joy  one  word  can  bring — 
That  one  small  violet  can  make  a  Spring. 


THE    GARDEN    OF    DESIRE 

VII 

To  Spain,  Good  Stranger?     There  it  is  you  go! 

I  pray  you  then  seek  out  one  that  I  knew 
And  for  me  tell  him — O !  I  pray  you  to ! — 

Look  not  for  him  where  piled  up  gold's  aglow, 
Nor  where  the  servile  courtier  bendeth  low, 

Nor  yet   indeed   where   banked   spears   filtering 

through 
Sharp  steel  light  falls  pallid  and  cold  as  dew, 

Where'er  the  humble  kneel  in  prayer,  there,  go. 

'Tis  there  you'll  find  him  where  the  tapers  show 
His  hands  in  blessing  lifted.     Then,  O  then, 

For  me  say  this — say  it  again !  again ! 

(I  crave  your  pardon,  Stranger.     Say  not  so.) 

But  is  he  happy?     That  I  have  not  heard — 
Look  in  his  eyes  and  then — then — send  me  word ! 


[81] 


THE    GARDEN    OR    DESIRE 

VIII 

Theocritus  who  sang  in  Sicily, 

By  ./Etna  where  are  shepherds'  pipes  a-ring, 
Made  thus  unto  the  night  a  maiden  sing: 

"Moon- Wheel,  the  one  I  love  draw  unto  me." 
O !  would  that  I  could  pray  thus,  Moon,  to  thee, 

And  be  as  sure  as  she  some  peace  to  bring, 
Simaetha,  'neath  the  laurels  silvering, 

In  old  Sicilian  gardens  by  the  sea. 

I  pray  to  thee,  Great  Moon,  make  me  forget ! 

O !  gracious  Lady  Moon,  let  me  forget 
And  love  but  beauty  only  as  of  yore ! 

Soon  now  upon  the  grass  beside  my  door 
The  Fall  will  fling  the  poplars'  pallid  gold — 

Let  me  forget  and  love  it  as  of  old  1 


DATE  DUE 


PRINTED   IN    US.  A. 


PS3541  N55G3  1913 
Underwood,  Edna  Worthley, 

1873-1961 . 
The  garden  of  desire 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FAI 


AA    001  235140    9 


NIVERSITY  OF  CA 


UNIVERSIT 

II    II 


RIVERSIDE  LIBRARY 


3  1210  00613  8646 


